


The Story Behind the Rumor

by jeahwriting



Category: Olympics RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-25 17:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeahwriting/pseuds/jeahwriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> Based off the rumor that Ryan Lochte was flirting with Megan Rossee. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Story Behind the Rumor

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago, based on this article:
> 
> http://kein-teivz.tumblr.com/image/33465216351

  


Ryan and Megan were talking. No, they were doing more than talking. Ryan had his hand on Megan’s arm and she was leaning in to him. They were whispering into each other’s ears and giggling like school children. 

  


Michael watched the two of them from the other side of the bar and grit his teeth. Oh man, fuck this shit. Who the hell did Ryan think he was? Flirting with his girl. And what kind of a girlfriend touched another guy so brazenly—when Michael was in the same fucking room? Michael tightened his grip on his beer. Seriously. What kind of screwed up situation was this? 

  


Mike slammed his beer down on the table a little too loudly. He got up and parted the crowd, making his way to Ryan and Megan, already staring daggers at the two of them. Okay, he needed to talk to Ryan and set a few things straight.

  


“Hey.” Michael didn’t smile when he reached them. He kind of just glared.

  


Ryan and Megan raised their eyebrows at him. 

  


“Uhm, Mikey, you okay?” Megan smiled at him and tried to slip under his arm for a hug. Michael didn’t hug her back, so it just looked really awkward.

  


Ryan gave him a weird look. “Yeah, dude, what’s up? You look kind of angry.”

  


Do I Ryan? _Do I?_

  


“No, I’m fine.” Michael forced himself to contort his face into a sort of half-smile. Ryan gave him an ever weirder look. “I just—can I talk to you, Ryan? Alone?”

  


“Uh, yeah, dude.”

  


Michael pried Megan’s hands off of him and the two of them stepped out of the bar and onto the balcony. They went to one of the far corners where they were completely out of sight from the general populace and any potential paparazzi. 

  


“What’s up, Mike?”

  


“You fucking asshole.” Mike glared at Ryan. Ryan’s eyes widened and he took a step back. Okay, what? “What the fuck gives you the right to flirt with my girlfriend?”

  


“Wha-at? I wasn’t flirting with Megan.” Ryan had put his hands up defensively. “Dude, we were just talking. She was telling me about your trip and stuff. You said that I should try to be nicer to her so I was.”

  


Michael squinted at Ryan and tried to judge if he was telling the truth or not. “Well, it definitely looked like you were flirting, so I’m just going to tell you once. Back the fuck off.”

  


At those words, Ryan, who hadn’t really been taking Michael seriously, sobered up. He stood up straighter and watched Michael closely, lips a thin line. “Okay, listen, Phelps. I already told you I wasn’t flirting with her, so just calm down. Why the hell would I flirt with her slutty bimbo ass, anyways?”

  


“Hey, that’s my girlfriend you’re talking about.” Mike’s jaw hurt from clenching his teeth together so tightly. He gripped the railing in front of him and put all his effort into not punching Ryan in the face. “You better watch your fucking mouth.”

  


“What? You know it’s true. You don’t think she sleeps with every guy that looks her way? Jesus, Mike, open your eyes, man.” 

  


Michael shook his head. Ryan was unbelievable. “Okay, whatever, I just don’t want you flirting with her and shit, okay? That’s like all I’m asking of you. You can go be a man-whore slut with everyone else in the fucking world, but leave my girlfriend alone.” 

  


Ryan’s face went beet red and his eyes narrowed dangerously. “You know what I think? I don’t think this is about Megan at all.”

  


“What? Of course it is—”

  


“No, can you please shut up for like one second?” Mike pressed his lips together and waited for Ryan to say whatever he needed to say. “I think this is about you. And me.”

  


Of all the things Michael thought Ryan was going to say, this was the least expected. Mike’s glare faltered and his eyes shifted to the ground. He took a deep breath and looked back up at Lochte, glower in place.

  


“I think that you fucking hate Megan.” Ryan jabbed his finger at Mike’s chest, stepping closer to him. “I think you’re just using her to cover some empty hole in your pathetic life.”

  


Mike winced as Ryan’s words crashed down on him. “Shut up, Ryan.”

  


“I think that you’re lonely as fuck. I think that you’ve been lonely as fuck ever since you dumped me on my fucking ass in Beijing.” Ryan had started rambling. And when he started rambling, there was no stopping him. “I think that you’ve never been as happy as you were when we were together.”

  


Michael closed his eyes tight and tried not to remember. Tried not to remember kissing Ryan and touching Ryan and seeing Ryan smile his dimpled grin when they were alone under his covers. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

  


“I think that you miss the hell out of me.” Ryan’s voice was rising and Michael thought he heard his voice crack. Which was good cause it meant that Michael wasn’t the only one affected by his words. “I think that you miss swimming with me, and waking up next to me, and chilling at my house. I think you fucking miss that time we traveled to Europe together and that time we spend all night outside looking at the goddamn stars.”

  


Michael felt himself shaking, and then he was fucking pissed, because no. That was years ago and Ryan should not still have this much control over him. “SHUT UP, RYAN. I MEAN IT.”

  


“And you know what else I think?” Ryan was practically shouting at Michael now. “I think you’re still in love with me. I think you never fucking fell out of love with me—” 

  


Something in Michael finally snapped. Before he could register what he was doing, Michael felt his hand shoot up and slap Ryan across the face.

  


A deathly quiet fell over the two of them. Michael covered his mouth with his hands. “Shit,” he stuttered out, reaching for Ryan. “Ryan—I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean—”

  


Ryan twisted away from Michael. He watched Michael closely and what scared Mike was that his eyes were devoid of any emotion. There was no anger or pain or sadness or love. They were just empty. 

  


When Ryan spoke, his voice was dangerously quiet. “You do this thing, Mike. You push away anyone who’s ever loved you. And you better be fucking careful, because, soon, you won’t have anyone left.”

  


And with that, Ryan spun around and made his way back into the bar.

  


Michael sat down on one of the seats and put his head in his hands. He felt like crying or like running after Lochte or something. But instead, he just sat there, Ryan’s last words echoing in his head.


End file.
